Trish Lorenz working on her wallpaper: 'When I stand back and look at the result, I'm amazed. I'd be proud to hang it at home.' Photograph: Lydia Goldblatt

I'm not one of those people with an artistic bent. Ever since my art teacher pulled me to one side and suggested I drop the subject, I've accepted that creative pursuits and I are not made for each other. But recently, whether driven by the resurgence in craft or a desire to do it yourself as the recession bites, designer-maker classes – from making lampshades to crocheting rugs – have been springing up everywhere. And I've been fantasising about paint-spattered tables, glue-covered hands and creating something for myself.

One evening, fuelled by a couple of glasses of red wine, I book a wallpaper-making course at craft centre the Papered Parlour (£133, 11am-5pm). As the Sunday morning of my course arrives, I have butterflies the size of elephants in my stomach, and a vivid memory of the humiliations art and craft can inflict on you.

I sidle into the room and check out the others. There are a couple of professionals – a textile designer who made a beautiful floral design for her conservatory, and a sculptor whose work becomes my favourite of the day: a tiny bat feasting on an oversized mango in a print of gold and green. But luckily, the rest of the group are amateurs like me.

We are learning how to hand-print a design using woodblocks. Tutor Gemma Ooi, a wallpaper designer, demonstrates the process – cut out your design in foam using a scalpel, fix it on to wood blocks cut half the width of the roll, paint it, then print it on to the paper.

After a trial run, it's time to create our own pattern. Ooi has brought with her a selection of wallpapers and images, and as I flick through them a design slowly takes shape in my mind. Using tracing paper, I copy a branch from one picture and a butterfly from another, then free-draw a leaf and cut all three, delicately, in foam. It's not hard, but requires concentration and a slow, steady hand. Using a pencil, I mark in details such as bark, and place my images experimentally on my board. Ooi helps by explaining how the pattern will repeat and, surprisingly quickly, I have my design fixed.

As we hash away at our designs, there's a feeling of camaraderie and supportiveness. There's also a huge cream cake and pots of tea.

I choose my colour palette: blue-grey for the butterflies, a murky gold-green for the foliage and a single leaf of raspberry, then mix my paint. Soon I'm printing: covering the pieces of foam in a light layer of paint, then placing the block on a roll of paper. Over the next hour I lose track of time as I paint and print, paint and print, paint and print, until two metres of wallpaper are complete.

When I stand back and look at the result, I'm amazed. To my genuine surprise, I'd be proud to hang it at home – there's not enough for an entire room, but plenty for an alcove or maybe the wall behind the loo. But more importantly, I've created it myself. And if I can, anyone can.